


Wacky Workbench Zone

by benignmilitancy



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games), Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Humor, Sonic CD, snarky Sonic is snarky, written because I could never find that generator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 02:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benignmilitancy/pseuds/benignmilitancy
Summary: "Might've been a good idea to check where that destroyed pipeline went before hopping in, but hey, twenty-twenty hindsight and all that." Sonic CD drabble.





	Wacky Workbench Zone

Say for hypothetical purposes you had an arch nemesis. No real reason, just for giggles. Everyone gets one at some point or another in their lives, right? Right. It's just fate's way of balancing its narrative. Most will agree that on the whole every living being considers itself the hero of its own story. As such, there must exist a counterbalance somewhere.

Well, there also comes a catch with that: generally the bigger the character you make yourself out to be, the more fancifully fate has to twist the plot to suit its own ends. Of course it would prove much safer and more conducive to your health just to immure yourself from the danger, but where's the fun in hiding? If you go in, you might as well go all in. Throw all your chips in the pot. Make an action, see what happens.

_Just remember the pitfalls of chronic heroism, kiddies._ If you're as dedicated to the role as Sonic is, try to avoid making the same mistake he did. Acknowledge the chance that someday you'll collide with an equal and opposite reaction.

Let's call yours Robotnik. Or, if fate ever decides to go corporate on the both of you, _Dr. Robotnik_ ™ _._ Now, you don't know what the heck kind of elements the planet, or fate, or _whatever_ had to belch up to create a fat man with that much lack of reckoning to be flung against logic or good sense, but like it or not, he's climbed into the ring to fight the full nine rounds and so have you. Questioning the arrangement becomes a moot exercise once fate pits you against him, because it thinks the result is pretty freaking funny and wants to do it again.

And, it seems, again.

And again.

And again.

Hardy har.

Y'know, you're starting to think that stupid cartoon sock puppet version of you had the better idea, chasing him off altogether with that giant wooden mallet and bonking him on the head with it till stars wheeled round his oversized cranium, then throwing the mallet after him for good measure. _And stay out!_ Had you known what would ensue the minute you caught him stuffing rabbits into a motobug carapace, you might have approached this whole heroing business a little differently.

Oh, you'd have kicked the same egg-shaped keister as always, make no mistake about that. But you'd have done it with just a tad more tongue-in-cheek. Maybe pointed at the sky decidedly made of painted cardboard somewhere beyond your field of earthly perception like, _Heh._ I see what you did there. Good one. Now fork over your mallet. Show's over.

In all seriousness, though, you can't ignore the fact that even though Robotnik is _textbook_ megalomaniac, he's also undeniably a _dangerous_ one. His shrill laughter causes you to grind your teeth in your sleep. You've seen him laugh so hard you could practically see his uvula bounce up and down in the back of his throat, and you've jolted up in bed about it. Though that's a secret you'll carry to the grave. You don't want anyone else to know just how much you've been exposed to _the crazy._

All in all, it was quite safe to say Sonic thought the doc pretty well off his nut. Enough he wouldn't have put it past him to have rewritten Little Planet's brochure guide at any rate.

_After you relax in the volcanic shark tanks of Tidal Tempest and nearly get avalanched spelunking in the ever-scenic Quartz Quadrant, come check out Wacky Workbench's Giant Pipeslide of Doom! Guaranteed fun for children twelve and under!_ … _Granted, hedgehogs of that approximate age won't live much longer. Toodle-loo!_

Okay, so maybe not _Toodle-loo_ , but you get the point.

Sonic's little PSA moment flashed through his mind as he shot through the pipeline like a rider down a water tunnel from hell—believe you him, he'd recently relived _that_ particular trauma so it was minty _-_ fresh in his mind, _thanks a lot, doc_ —clanging around while scrabbling in vain to clutch damp walls and sputtering screams loud enough to wake the dead. Gravity tossed him this way and that, banging him against the steel quite a few times and inflicting a number of bruises on his head and arms. Somewhere he was sure his guardian angel was laughing.

"Ow— _Ow!_ Push me the _other_ way, willya!"

Though he could slightly control his acceleration if he curled up, he didn't hold much sway over anything else, like the volume of icy water that sloshed around him every time this bad boy took a steep plummet.

_creeeeeeeeee_

Oh, no.

_creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

His stomach lurched as the pipe began to tilt.

_creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

He was no expert on strange noises, but that did _not_ sound good.

Panting, Sonic turned tail and scrambled against the current in the best doggy paddle he could manage, kicking harder as he heard the precarious groan of metal giving way under his weight.

No, no, no, no no _no no nonononono don't break don't break don't_ —

The quintessential bad comedian, fate wanted its punchline heard. So quite naturally, when the pipe broke, it _shattered._

He gulped and screamed in sporadic bursts as the current shoved him face-first down the tunnel, screamed till his lungs constricted as though he couldn't stand another breath in this stinking hole, which proved a feat enough in and of itself. Air fled him any way it could as water stabbed fingers into his corneas, stung his nostrils, clogged chlorine and who knew what other kinda crap sloshed around in here until—

"— _oof!"_

The storm hatch flew open and he fell out along with the rest of the surge, arms and legs flailing in a desperate attempt to break windfall; he smacked face-first into the ground and remained there, arms splayed the way a child would to make a snow angel. Ice-cold water rushed down on him from the open cover.

Eventually he moaned, sopped one hand to the wall and pulled himself up. As if that weren't bad enough, he sneezed. Not just sneezed but _sneezed,_ as in his whole body shook from the force and he could actually _feel_ his nostrils shove something out. Gross.

That being said, he turned away before he could view the result. Curiosity nearly killed the hedgehog once here. Much as Robotnik might've enjoyed the irony of something as mundane as the common cold taking him down, he himself wasn't so keen on tempting fate.

He coughed to clear out the rest of the buildup and rubbed his nose with a wince. Might've been a good idea to check where that destroyed pipeline went before hopping in, but hey, twenty-twenty hindsight and all that.

Sonic looked up, relieved to find the generator humming just ahead. As he soon discovered, tumbling and sloshing through the dark wet, COOLANT ALPHA STATION-003 led to a large chemical sifter of sorts, where liquid fuel would flash-freeze in large vats and be transported via crane in enormous blocks to other parts of the factory. He'd only escaped by rupturing the pipe before it reached the turbine, which now rained hail on the frozen steel floor in millions of shards.

Sonic shivered, rubbing his arms to ward off encroaching goosebumps. _Yeesh_ … _And I would have been hedgie stew._

_WARNING:_

_THIS EQUIPMENT STOPS_

_AND STARTS AUTOMATICALLY_

His ears flattened a little. "No foolin'?"

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excerpt from a Sonic CD fic written long ago.


End file.
